Quick, Like A Bandaid
by calliopeiamuse08
Summary: When you're dreading the inevitable, sometimes it's better to just get things over with - and Booth never does things by halves. A B&B story. Ch. 4: Booth finally gets the picture. Now complete. R&R, please.
1. Chapter 1

Brennan watched Booth, wondering had been bothering him. He'd seemed fidgety today; on edge, jumpy, as if he was expecting something bad to happen. There was no cause for it that Brennan could discern. She knew there had to be something he wasn't telling her, but when she asked he simply blew up at her and insisted that nothing was wrong, why did everyone keep asking that, she was turning into Sweets, didn't she hate psychology, etc, etc.

She did hate psychology, and yet… she thought Dr. Sweets might say that whatever was bothering Booth had something to do with her.

So she waited, and watched, and as they sat together in the diner, she thought maybe he'd resolved whatever was troubling him. He was happy, eating his favorite pie and giving her the usual business about what she was missing out on. "It's un-American, Bones," he teased her, taking a big bite. "Downright un-American to dislike pie." He swallowed. "Besides, you never really gave it a fair chance."

It occurred to Brennan that maybe, just maybe, she should indulge Booth in his pie delusions. After all, that was part of compromise, right? A good partnership needed compromise. "Alright," she conceded. "I'll give it a 'fair chance' – an unbiased taste test." She took a moderately sized piece of the pie on her fork and hesitantly put it in her mouth. Hmm. The texture and flavor of the crust was passable, but the fruit… "No, I still don't like pie," she retorted. "Are you satisfied now?"

He smiled. "Nope."

Typical Booth. Brennan couldn't help but smile, despite her exasperation at his hardheadedness. "You are extremely stubborn sometimes."

"I musta caught it from you," he quipped.

Brennan gave him her disapproving look. "Stubbornness is not contagious, Booth."

"Yes it is." His eyes were mischevious.

"No it's not! There is no 'stubbornness' pathogen and it is widely acknowledged that -" Brennan realized that Booth was trying not to laugh, and understood.

Booth smirked. "Aaaannd _now_ she gets it."

Brennan simply made a face. It was impossible to pursue a logical argument when he insisted on being ridiculous. It was an irksome habit of his. For some reason, though, ever since his surgery she didn't really mind. Maybe it was because, when faced with the prospect of losing him forever, she realized that she'd miss his silliness if he was gone.

They ate in silence for a minute, Booth working on his pie and Brennan eating a salad. They exchanged a glance, satisfied to sit quietly in each other's presence without needing to say anything.

Suddenly Booth's face darkened, as if a switch had been thrown in his mind. Abruptly he dropped his fork with a clatter onto his plate. "Goddamn it, Bones," he snapped. "I love you, alright? There, I said it. I'm _in love_ with you." He took out his wallet and tossed a few bills on the table. "Now, if you make a big fuss about it, the bureau will assign a new agent to the case and then find you a more permanent partner. However, that'll really throw a wrench in the investigation. If you can tolerate me until the end of the case, we'll be able to catch this guy." He stood up. "I'd apologize, but I'm really not sorry and I can't help the way I feel. I _am_ sorry that I won't be able to be around you anymore, but don't worry, I won't stay where I'm not wanted. It's been an honor working with you, Dr. Brennan." And with that, he turned and started to walk away.

Brennan's mind was racing, trying to process everything he'd said. "Wait!"


	2. Chapter 2

Earlier that day, Booth had made the decision. He'd decided he was going to get it over with, once and for all, and just tell Bones how he felt. It wasn't that he felt particularly optimistic about her reaction – no, he knew he didn't have a chance in hell with her. He was just tired of it all. Exhausted, really.

Every happy moment with her was soured by a dull ache in his chest; every time he dreamt about her, he woke up feeling guilty. She didn't belong to him, and as long as she was oblivious to his feelings he'd keep on forgetting that, because she _let _him forget it, damn it, and it was so easy to fall back into that safe, cozy, undefined relationship they shared. What had Sweets said? That they had a surrogate relationship? This, this _thing_ he had with Bones was making it impossible for him to care about anybody else. He was a one-woman man. He only had room in his heart for _her_. As long as their friendship continued, he wouldn't be able to fall for anyone else, but the only way he could think of to get over her and save their friendship was to meet somebody new. It was a catch-22.

He'd used that logic Bones loved so much and came to the conclusion that it had to stop. He had to tell her, had to burn the bridges so that there was no falling back into the old routine. He was a reformed gambling addict, and he knew an addiction when he saw it. He had to quit Bones cold turkey.

He steeled himself for the worst. He figured it was best to do it as quickly as possible, get the pain over with in one fell blow. He told himself today was the day. No backing down. All he had to do was find the right moment.

Bones seemed to know something was up, as much as he tried to hide it. He was a little sharper with her than he should've been, so she retreated, and that just made him feel like an asshole. It wasn't her fault. The blame for this whole thing rested solely on him and his stupid coma-dream. _Maybe…. Maybe I shouldn't do it today, _he thought. He was too worked up; he might say something he never wanted her to know. Something like, "Ever since my dream, I've wanted to run my fingertips along your bare skin and make you shiver. I find myself unconsciously gravitating towards you whenever we're alone. I can't stop looking at your lips, or remembering the way your body feels pressed up against mine, or imagining what I would do if I could have my way with you."

Yeah. She wouldn't stop at breaking up their partnership if he said that – she'd get a restraining order.

So he'd reluctantly rescheduled his plan, and then relaxed for the first time all day. They'd eaten lunch, and Bones had rejected his pie (as usual), and everything was just perfect and normal. And then she gazed at him, and he gazed back, and they shared a moment. They were perfectly in sync.

Then something in him snapped. He'd done it again – forgotten who they were, and what was really between them (or rather, what _wasn't_ really between them). He couldn't do this anymore. No. This was happening now. "Goddamn it, Bones. I love you, alright? There, I said it. I'm _in love_ with you." Then he rattled off the little speech he'd prepared earlier, threw way too much money on the table and left the diner as quickly as possible.

"Wait!" he heard her call. He didn't stop.

When he got outside, the bright sunlight momentarily blinded him, allowing Bones to catch up with him. She grabbed his sleeve. "Booth, you're jumping to conclusions!" she reprimanded him.

He spun around. "Yeah?" he retorted. "Well, then, do you love me?"

She opened her mouth to speak but didn't say anything.

"I thought so." Booth jerked his arm away from her and practically ran to his car, desperate to get as far from her as possible. He couldn't let her see the heartbreak and devastation on his face. He'd known she didn't love him back, and yet, the first-hand confirmation was more than he could take. The pain was a physical sensation, smarting in his chest and squeezing his throat.

_At least the worst is over_, he tried to console himself, willing himself not to fall apart into so many little broken pieces. _God, how could it get any worse than this? _


	3. Chapter 3

Brennan stood on the curb for a few moments, stunned. His words rang in her head. _Well then, do you love me? _She hadn't known what to say when he asked her, and she didn't know what to say now. She'd never given it thought before. Her reflex response was that love was simply a chemical reaction in the brain, and so whether or not she "loved" him had no impact on whether or not they were compatible life partners. Deep down she knew that this wasn't the right answer.

She was irritated that he'd fled from her, as if avoidance could solve the problem. She didn't want a new partner. She only wanted to work with Booth, and if she couldn't have Booth she didn't want to work with the FBI at all. Childish, yes, but that was how she felt. It didn't mean she wouldn't cooperate; she just wouldn't like it. No, the best solution for all parties involved was to work through this. She made up her mind and called a cab.

A few minutes later, Brennan was knocking on the doorframe to Booth's office in the FBI building. The door was propped open, but she thought it polite to announce her presence.

He looked up from the papers on his desk, saw her, and didn't say anything.

She entered the room, feeling unwelcome, and closed the door behind her. She knew Booth would want their conversation to be kept private. "Booth, I think we need to discuss some of the things you told me at the diner," she began.

He shuffled his papers, not meeting her eyes. "Sorry, Bones, I've got a lot of work to do, so now's not a good time."

"Booth, I don't want the FBI to assign me a new partner."

He looked up then, surprised.

"While your objectivity _has_ been compromised," she admitted, "I have noticed that it's your lack of emotional distance that seems most helpful when solving murders. I don't think that the way you feel about me should be an obstacle to a fruitful professional partnership."

Booth smiled quickly, a smile devoid of humor. "Well, for once it's not about you, Bones. It's about me. Maybe you can work this way, but_ I_ can't work this way. I can't –" He looked away from her, clenching his hand into a fist. "I can't keep on loving a woman who doesn't love me back. And as long as I'm near you, I'm going to keep on loving you." He met her eyes again, and the raw emotion on his face made Brennan's breath catch in her throat. "I'm trying, but I just can't stop."

She swallowed the unexpected lump in her throat. "When you asked me if I loved you, I didn't answer. You took my silence as a negative response. The truth is, I don't know if I love you. But I think maybe - " she gently placed her hand on his fist – "you could help me find out."

He rolled his eyes upward and exhaled sharply, a huff of disbelief. "If you loved me, you'd _know_, Bones. Deep down you'd know. That's love." He drew his hand out from under hers. "I know I love you, because when you're gone, I don't know what to do with myself. I feel like a part of my life is missing. I know I love you because I worry about you all the time, and I wish I could protect you from all the pain, and sadness, and evil in the world. And I _know_ I love you," he continued, his voice growing quiet and hoarse, "because this conversation is killing me." His eyes were shining, and his jaw set. "So if you could just give me some time to myself, Bones, I'd really appreciate it. I've got a lot of business to take care of."

Bones didn't understand what she'd said wrong. She stood up, tears pricking at her eyes, and he returned to his paperwork, acting as if she'd already left. She had an irrational urge to grab him and _make_ him acknowledge her, _make_ him acknowledge the pain he was causing, _force_ him to take back what he'd said and promise he'd never leave her, because the thought of him shutting her out forever was just too unbearable to endure.

Suddenly, she understood what he meant. She knew.


	4. Chapter 4

"I – I _do_ love you, Booth," she stammered awkwardly.

A sharp pain stabbed Booth's heart. _This_ was how it could get worse: Bones saying the words he'd dreamed and hoped and prayed she'd say someday because she mistakenly thought it was what she was supposed to do."You're a terrible liar, Bones," he muttered, not looking up.

"I'm not lying," she insisted vehemently, sounding confident now. "I was unsure if I loved you because I was unsure of what love _is_. You don't accept the scientific definition of love as a valid one, and it's the only one I have." She took a deep breath. "But when I think of my life without you I feel pain. It _hurts_ to imagine never seeing you again. You think that I don't care because I can leave you for weeks at a time and still maintain my composure. But that's only because I _know_ you'll be waiting for me when I get home. I trust you to still be here. You are the one constant in my life, a metaphorical anchor, and you, Seeley Booth, are the only person that I – I _need_." She paused, and when she spoke again, her voice cracked. "I love you."

Booth looked up at her, completely speechless. It couldn't – she couldn't – before the coma, he'd been able to read people. Could he trust himself now, trust his gut and instinct and every fiber of his being telling him she was sincere? Or was it just wishful thinking? He stood up, slowly, and walked around his desk, approaching her tentatively. This wasn't any of the scenarios he'd anticipated in his head.

"I love you," Bones repeated, her eyes bright and insistent. God, it sent a warm rush through him to hear her say that, a burst of adrenaline racing through his veins and speeding up his heart.

He tried to choose his words carefully. "I heard you, I just…" He rubbed his neck. "I _want_ to believe you, I really do, but – are you sure you're not just saying it because -"

Before he could finish his sentence, she grabbed him by the lapels and kissed him, hard and passionate. He froze for a split second, his brain taking a moment to register what was happening, and then melted into her and kissed her back ardently. Belatedly he remembered that his office blinds were open and pulled away from her.

"What?" she asked, concerned.

"Everyone can see us," he informed her.

"Does that bother you?" Bones smirked mischievously.

"Not really," Booth admitted. He kissed her again, slow and sweet. Surely any minute now he'd wake up from this wonderful, unbelievable dream. He smiled, still touching lips, and he could feel her answering smile. "I love you, Temperance Brennan," he whispered.

"I love you, Seeley Booth," she murmured back. "I'm glad you finally believe me." Then she slid out of his embrace. "I should probably let you get back to work. Do you think we should notify Dr. Sweets of this new development, considering the implications it will have for our working relationship?"

"Nah. He's supposed to be the genius prodigy kid, let him figure it out." As soon as the words were out of his mouth, Booth knew she'd have something to say about his word choice.

"That's extremely redundant," Bones corrected him. "A prodigy is, by definition, a genius _and_ a child, and –"

He cut her off by placing his mouth over hers, and it was surprisingly effective. A few minutes later, she broke away from him again. "I really have to go, Booth," she chided, "or you'll never get anything done."

"So?" he asked plaintively.

"I'll come over to your apartment tonight," she told him, straightening his tie. "Right now, you have to catch a killer."

He gazed at her, wondering how he'd gotten so damn lucky. "Could you just – just say it one more time?"

"I love you," she said. She gave him a quick peck. "I'll say it as often as you like."

"I'll always want to hear it one more time," he admitted.

"Then I'll always say it one more time. I love you." She quickly walked towards the door before he could catch her and draw her back in, and flashed him a smile on the way out.

"I love you," he called after her. A few agents in the hall gave him a funny look, but he didn't care. He wanted to shout it to the whole world. _I love you. I love you. I love you._ He couldn't stop thinking it, couldn't give a damn about the paperwork on his desk. _I love you._

_And you love me. _


End file.
